An InterUniversal study of a Dead Man Walking
by TheGirlWithTheOnyxRose
Summary: Post TRF/Pre/in Season 6 of DW. Grief isn't a straight progression from stages 1-5 for the death of Sherlock Holmes. It's unrelative, repeating, and can be completely unrelated to his death at all. especially, if you travel with a Mad Man in his Blue Box


_Hello people! I finished watching Sherlock recently, and this popped into my head. Warning, there is an OC there, but that's because this fic is part of a giant universe(well, multiverse), and if you want, I can write the whole series, because there's a LOT more do Dana Jamesbury then what's on the page._

_Enjoy, and tell me if you want me to continue!_

**DENIAL**

He's hiding in the morgue when it appears, the big, blue box, and the impossible man inside. Said man stumbles out of the box, adjusting his tweed jacket and grabbing the fez which had fallen to the floor.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor, and before you ask anything else—" he gestures at the box. "Take a look."

It takes Sherlock less than a second before his curiosity wins out, and he steps inside the TARDIS.

"TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension—"

"-In Space." Sherlock steps around the console room in awe. "It's dimensionally transcendental. It's—"

"Bigger on the inside." The Doctor lets out a boyish grin. "And Sherlock Holmes, I know how to help you."

"With what?" It's a clever lie, and unfortunately, the Doctor can pick up on those.

"You're going to die." The Doctor's tone was blunt, and the Consulting Detective blinks at how very _old _his eyes are. "And I have a way to help you fake it."

"How?" The Doctor jumps up and spins around the console.

"Never underestimate the power of tiny people in a robot suit."

"What's the catch?" The Doctor's grin fades again.

"You help me fake my death."

**BARGANING I**

"I ... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock's voice cracks. He sees John and Dana watching "him" over the screen.

"What's going on? John, what's going on?" The woman tugs on her friend's sleeve, he former staring at his cell phone in disbelief.

"He's on the roof. Of St. Bart's."

_Your friends will die if you don't.  
_  
"This is an apology. It's all true."

"Wh-what?"

_John._

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Course it isn't Sherly, why are you saying this?" The blind woman's voice has a creeping edge of panic. She frowns.

_Not just John. Everyone._

"I'm a fake."

"Sherlock ..."

_Mrs. Hudson.  
_

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

_Everyone.__  
_  
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the _first time we met_, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever."

_Lestrade._

"_You_ could." Dana says, grabbing the phone from John. "You knew about my dead _daughter._ Mycroft was the only one I _told,_ and he wouldn't tell you."

"I researched you, I researched you both. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." Sherlock sniffed. The Doctor watched him with concern in the chair next to him. "It's a trick, just a magic trick."

_One more._

"No. All right, stop it now." Dana tries to run forwards.

"No, stay _exactly_ where you are. Don't move." John pulled Dana back.

_Dana._

"All right," her voice cracked. "What happens now?"

_Ah yes, your precious pet, the Bad Wolf. _

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"

_Four bullets; four gunmen; three victims and one dead dog. _

"Do what?"

_There's no stopping them now…_

"This phone call, it's, err ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" Both the army doctor and the former M15 worker's eyes widen.

"Leave a note when?"

_Unless my people see you jump_

"Goodbye, John. Goodbye Dana."

SHERLOCK!"

"NO!" The scream pierces the London street as the Tesalecta falls from the rooftop of St. Bart's hospital, and the impossible becomes possible.

'Sherlock Holmes' is dead.

Safe inside the Tesalecta, Sherlock closes his eyes and drops the microphone, nearly falling backwards, but someone blocks his fall.

"It's alright." The Doctor gives him a big hug. "It's over now; your part is done now."

"There has to be _some other way…_"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

**DEPRESSION**

"Sherlock—" The Doctor grabs the (_Former)_ Consulting Detective's shoulder and spins him around. "You need to snap out of this. You can't—"

"Don't tell me, what I _can_ or _can't do."_ Sherlock hisses. "You have no idea—"

"Don't I?" Sherlock stops. "I'm not just a time lord, _I'm the last._" Guilt_(Sentiment)_ floods him. "I didn't just loose my friends, I lost my entire _race, _so don't _tell me_, I don't know what you're going through, because I go through it every day."

"A bit not good?" The Doctor's frown lets up a bit.

"A bit, but I'll tell you what—" He spins around the console, ecstatic. "You and I will go on an adventure."

"To where?" There's the mad Cheshire grin again.

"Next Stop, Everywhere." The two laugh. "I hear Poosh is nice this time of year—"

**ACCEPTANCE I**

One trip turned into more than Sherlock could count, and now Sherlock found himself in the 18th century, in Venice with the Doctor, who had wandered off to go see a man about a chicken.

"He's wandered off again, hasn't he." Sherlock spun around. There was a young girl, about 16, wearing a festival mask. "Damn, I was hoping to have a conversation with him."

"Who are you?" Sherlock can't help but ask, but the girl laughs at him, her crimson(_He can't tell if it's dyed or not—)_ hair flying as she shakes her hair.

"Spoilers." She says cryptically, before pulling off her mask. "But you can call me Sanction for now."

"Sanction?"

"As some old dead geezers would say, the 'Ultimate' Sanction." She scoffs, but then she shrugs it off, holding out her hand. "Wanna dance?"

"I don't even know you, and I can tell you I'm not interested." The girl rolls her eyes.

"_Yet._ And it's a festival, you're supposed to dance." He tries to read her, but he can't. "Don't bother, you won't be able to deduce me."

"Who the _hell_ are you?"

"Spoilers." She catches sight of a flustered time lord. "And I forgive you by the way."

"Wh-" She's already skipped off.

"Why hello Doctor! Fancy seeing you here!"

**INTERLUDE**

They're driving through the desert in the middle of Utah-nowhere when Sherlock loses his patience with his curiosity(_Once again)._

"What happens to me, in all of this?" The Doctor does a double take, nearly crashing the car. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, you'll be going with me, but 200 years younger." Sherlock blinks. It makes sense. "But I won't know you, so you'll have to be convincing."

"Your two companions are a kissogram and a _nurse._" Sherlock points out. "I don't think I'll have a problem if those to, as well as River, are the only others I'll have to deal with." Sherlock doesn't notice the Doctor look away, before pulling over to the side of the road and jumping out of the car, waving at the two who have just arrived off a Greyhound bus.

"Howdy!"

No, Sherlock reflects, It won't be, and _wasn't, _hard to get into the good books of Amelia and Rory Pond. However…

**ANGER**

"No." Sherlock smiles wearily at the girl across from him, even if she can't see it.

"Hello Dana." There's no _possible explanation_ on how she can be here.

Then again, this _is_ Dana Jamesbury, and if anyone can cross universes if they put their mind to it, she can.(It also makes him wonder if John is still in the other universe—"

"You're supposed to be dead!" A spoon whizzes by his head with fair accuracy, impressive considering her lack of vision. "We saw you jump, you—you FREAK!" The words fly out of her mouth before she realizes what she's saying, but what's said and done is enough to send the girl running past them, out the doors of the diner, into the pouring rain.

_Shit._

**ANGER II**

She comes back in about twenty minutes, soaked while the Doctor, the Ponds, River and Sherlock were sitting at a table, waiting.

She's not alone either, one arm slung around an army doctor with a history of a psychosomatic limps, alcoholic sisters and too many deaths.

John doesn't acknowledge Sherlock, or his look of surprise. He just smiles wearily at the Doctor, his eyes portraying another emotion entirely.

"Hello Doctor, haven't been on Earth this year yet, have you?" The Doctor frowns.

"I'm so—" the look on John's face stops him.

"Don't be." John Watson says sharply. "There's nothing you can do now."

**BARGANING II**

"I'm your new undercover agent, on loan from Scotland Yard, code name, 'the Doctor'. These are my top operatives, the Legs, the Nose, and Mrs. Robinson. And _she_, is my friend codename Delta and her friends the Detective and the Soldier." Dana looks over at the Doctor confused.

**"**Delta?"

"Spoilers." Dana shakes her head.

"Really, first time you mention this…" Her head tilts to the side and she points, eerily, at Canton. "Who's phoning you, that's interesting.I take it you voted the minority?"

Out of the corner of Sherlock's eye, John Watson starts to smile.

_"_What?" And for the first time in almost 2 years, (_The last when she said goodbye to Mycroft and 1 month after when she first took off for adventure in the Doctor's TARDIS…)_ Dana Jamesbury _laughs._

_"_Former FBI agent, was kicked out, oh, 6 months back? Not in contact with family, you didn't vote for See-Dick-Run over here, and—" she pauses. "Yeah."

"How did you—where?" An uncomfortable agent shifts.

"Do not engage with the intruder, Mr. Delaware." 'Delta' rolls her eyes.

"Sweetie, you heard everything I heard, it's simple enough." She holds out her hand, and Sherlock is fleetingly reminded of the flamboyancy that i-_was_ Moriarty. "Give me five minutes, I'll explain." She smiles serenely, teeth bared. "On the other hand, lay a finger on me, or my friends, and you'll never, ever know."

"How did you do that? And the box—" Dana stops him.

"A) I'm a consulting _detective_, it's what I do, and as for old-new-borrowed-blue over here—"She paused, her eyes lighting up. "Clever, eh?"

**ANGER III**

"Hello? Is someone there?" The recorder hisses static. "It's dark here, dark and scary." Dana Jamesbury lets out a weary laugh. "Funny, since I've never been afraid of the dark before—" She stops suddenly. John watches the detective's head drop.

"Where are you? Those creatures are here; I can feel it but not remember it. How am I supposed to get out of here if I can't even think properly?" There's another pause, suddenly stopping the girl's rant. "Oh god, I'm talking to myself, how stupid am I?"

John almost laughs. _Almost. _

"So just get your stupid face where I can see it. OK Sherlock? Don't screw up this time, because I'm going against my logic in trusting you to find me, to find Amy."

The static fuzzes out any speech that might come after, and at the look of sheer determination on (_Celebrity)_ Sherlock Holmes's face, (_Bachelor)_ John Watson can't help but think the Oncoming Storm has nothing on him.

**ACCEPTANCE II**

They save them both, Amy and Dana, safe on the TARDIS.

"You could stay..." John Watson picks up his bag.

"I really can't." He says earnestly. "Jack would have my head." Dana's forehead scrunches up.(_'Most undignified for a lady of your stature.' As Mycroft would say.)_

"But it's a time machine, he wouldn't have to know!" The soldier sighs.

"Dana, are you trying to get me to stay because you're scared?"

"Scared of what?"

"Does it need saying?" Dana looks at the floor, thinking over her next words, before growling in frustration.

"He could have told us he was alive." She hisses. "But _nooooo_, he just went off with Mr.-bowtie-but 200- years-older."

"You don't know that." Dana scoffs.

"_Please, _he would have been angsting his head off about how the TARDIS shouldn't be possible." John says nothing, and Dana breathes.

_"_I'm glad he's alive, really, I am. I just—"

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." Dana nods, leaning against the TARDIS railing. She clears her throat.

"I know you're there." She says quietly, and from his hiding place, Sherlock Holmes smiles, stepping into view. "I'm _not_ stupid."

"Never said you were." John, (_in his own, patented this-is awkward-way_) coughs.

"I'll leave you two alone." When she's sure he's gone, Dana's eyes light up and she laughs.

_"_He's not dead, is he?" There's no question on who she's referring to, but the sheer joy she's emitting makes Sherlock laugh.

"The Doctor? What do you think?"

"He's too clever to get himself killed." Dana grins. "Just like someone I know—"

_Smack_

_"_Hey!" Dana glares at him.

"That was for jumping off of a damn building—" Her glare disappears, and she (_Tackle-bear-glomps)_hugs him.

_"_And this is for being alive." She murmurs, her head buried in his shoulder. Sherlock's face softens, and he hugs the girl back.

Everything, for now at least, will be alright.

_Remember, I can continue this if anyone wants me to. Thanks for reading!_

_TheGirlwiththeOnyxRose_


End file.
